Like Elvis, at Libertyland

I have decided that I have the ideal life for a writer. Oh sure, there are no Hemingway-esque safaris to Africa. No lavish Black & White Balls, a la Capote. But my life is so routine that it provides a monumental daily challenge for me to try and make it sound interesting. It's excellent practice really.

I was, however, unusually social this past weekend. Included was dinner at a theme restaurant, a mini Seinfeld marathon at Axl's, and watching the Bama/Tennessee game at Kywana's. It is this latter event which I want to focus on today.

Here is something you should know about me in case we ever hang out. I don't really like watching Bama games with anyone.

First of all, watching the game on TV is like a four hour exercise in anxiety for me. I get extremely nervous just before kickoff and remain that way until the outcome is decided. I pace the floor, put my hands over my face, walk into the kitchen and open the freezer multiple times for no apparent reason. My neck and shoulders become one gargantuan monkey's fist. And we haven't even gotten to the yelling. It's like 95% anxiety, 5% elation and relief. And that's if Bama wins.

As long as I'm at the game, I can stand up and jump and cheer, providing an outlet for my nervous energy. But at home, there isn't as much of an outlet. Especially not with other people around, who I would rather continue to think me sane and allow me around their children.

Over the years, I've conditioned myself to be able to watch a game on TV with one or two other people who know how I am. Anymore than that, or anyone I don't really know, and I'm very uncomfortable. There are certain times one needs to be alone or with one or two members of one's inner circle. It's kinda like when Elvis would rent out Libertyland for the entire night and ride the Zippin Pippin over and over. Or it's nothing at all like that.

Anyway, all season long, various friends have invited me over to watch the away games on TV. And I had turned them all down, or just not answered my phone. Until Saturday night.

Feeling generous, or guilty or something, I accepted Kywana's offer to watch the game at their place. Needless to say, I would never agree to such a meeting without preconditions. I was under the impression it would only be me and Kywana watching the game. The main reason I was under that impression is because they said it would only be me and them watching the game.

Well, I was misled. There wound up being seven adults and five children present--if you consider me an adult--prompting me at one point to remark, "It's like Romper Room up in here." (NOTE: "Up in here" is a hip, cool phrase meaning "in here" or "in dis hizzy.")

I was none too happy at first. But once the game started, I zoned everything else out. Fortunately, I managed to keep my outbursts to a minimum. I think I only yelled a couple of times. Athough it could have been more. I'm not sure I even realize I do it sometimes. It turned out to be not the worst experience in the entire world. Of course, it helped that Bama won.

So I'm thinking maybe being a bit more social isn't so bad after all. I might even start answering the door when someone rings the bell. Or making eye contact with people.

"Thought I knew her, this lady. Opportunist, misled. Always searching for adventure. Like Pandora's box, misled..."